


Calling All Angels

by DreamingAngelWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Resurrection, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingAngelWolf/pseuds/DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are called by Castiel to address a problem the angels can't. A new prophet has been chosen, but with no archangels on the scene to protect her the angels have pulled up the next best thing. Trouble is, a new monster has also arrived, and with the angels AWOL it's up to the boys to get the young new prophet to safety - with help from a familiar face...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back in Business

**Author's Note:**

> So in this AU, Castiel never went 'power-crazy', and returned the souls after killing Raphael. Obviously, Dean still hates what he did to Sam's wall, and those issues still surface, but there are no bad Leviathan to worry about. Also, I made up the figures for how long Sam and Adam were in the Cage for, because if we go on the basis that 1 month = 10 years, then I think that's a bit pathetic that Dean spent longer in Hell than Sam did, considering how mentally scarred Sam was after returning. Anyway, hope people like what I've done, and I'll try and keep it going (honestly have no idea what to do with it really...!)

It was a quiet evening in Windom, Minnesota. The weather was still, revealing the star-speckled sky to the cool, bare street below. Being nearly one o’clock in the morning, the houses were dark at the windows, row after row of sleeping brickwork and silent estate cars waiting for the morning to signal the start of life – except for one.

Lily Sparrow had the house to herself that night. Her parents had gone for a weekend away (“to get to know each other again,” she’d overheard her mother say), and so she’d taken full advantage of the peace and quiet by watching some classic Hollywood films uninterrupted. The latest one having finished, she’d made the decision to get a mid-marathon snack before continuing with the next film, and wandered into the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream and chocolate chips and sauce in mind. 

The freezer hummed as she pulled it open, scanning the draws for the ice cream tub she knew was hiding at the back. Having retrieved it, she picked out the chocolate chips and sauce from the cupboard, selected an aptly sized bowl, and helped herself to a rather large portion. Well, it needed to last the whole movie – and maybe part of the next one, too, she thought. It was past one in the morning now, but Lily was adamant that she would stay up as long as she could. Not that it particularly mattered if she fell asleep on the couch, but she knew her parents would be made if she left the television on all night. Somehow, they always seemed to know. Maybe they were psychic after all.

A couple of hours later, just as the film was finishing, Lily was aware that a headache was building up at the front of her head. Sighing, she scooped up the last of the ice cream and trudged into the kitchen for a glass of water. Upstairs she found some aspirin, taking two rather than her usual one because, damn, this headache hurt. Perhaps it was a migraine instead, brought on by too much ice cream or too long spent in front of a TV screen. That sounded like something her mother would say. Catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, Lily groaned. She looked terrible, really – pale, heavy-lidded, and with messy hair. Maybe she should go to bed, sleep off her pains somehow. Leaving the bathroom, Lily blearily realised that that was something else her mother would say. Oh dear.

The aspirin hadn’t worked, and yet Lily dreamt through her headache. She saw herself up early in the morning, the light outside grey and watery. She was running downstairs, opening the front door, staring at a figure lying in the middle of the street. Suddenly she was next to him as he staggered to his feet, dazed and confused. “I’m home?” he mumbles. He looks wide-eyed and ragged, his blonde hair messy and unkempt. He’s trembling slightly. Overall, he looks… vulnerable.

“I’m Lily,” she hears herself saying. His blue eyes settle on her as if in some sort of recognition, but she doesn’t know him – he calls this street home, but as far as she knows he’s never lived here. Who is he?

“Adam.”

***

“Three of a kind.”

“Full house.”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Sam watched as Dean snatched up his winnings, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. “Gotta say, Sammy,” he said as he pocketed the money. “You’re getting too easy to read.”

“That’s because we only have each other to play with,” Sam said, gathering up the cards that littered the small table.

“Well it’s not like I can ring up Bobby and get him to drive out for one poker game. Can you imagine the reaction?”

Sam chuckled, slipping an elastic band around the cards and tossing them back onto the table. He raised an eyebrow. “What about Cas?”

Dean smirked. “Now that would be interesting. Think he’d enjoy it?”

“Unlikely.” Hearing the deep voice come from out of thin air, Dean couldn’t help but jump a few inches in his chair, and once his heart began to return to a regular pulse he threw a glare at the angel stood at his shoulder. Castiel was frowning slightly, eyeing the pack of cards the boys had been using. “Poker seems like a pointless game of luck,” he continued. “I never understood your species’ fascination with gambling.”

About to yell at him for not arriving in a more subtle (make that less ‘crapifying’) manner, Dean bit back the words on his tongue at a nudge from his brother’s foot. “Good to know, Cas,” he said instead. “What’s up?”

Finding no other chairs in the room, Cas moved to sit on the edge of the closest bed. “Heaven is frantic.” He sat down wearily, looking between them both a little expectantly as if that was all the explanation they needed.

Dean gestured for more. “And?”

“And nobody’s quite sure why.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

Cas regarded them both briefly, as if deciding how much to tell them, before presenting more details. “The rumour is that there is some panic towards the top of the chain of command. Although there are many speculations as to the cause, the most common theory is that it has something to do with the Cage.” Sam tensed up automatically, but the angel continued unaware. “There was, apparently, something sighted leaving it, and whatever it was, it was no mere angel.”

“So you’re saying the Cage is broken?” Dean summarised.

“Potentially.”

“Well hasn’t anyone gone to check it out?”

Castiel nodded grimly. “They have. It remains intact, and both Michael and Lucifer are in there. But that’s not all.” Standing, Cas made his way over to the window. “A new prophet has been chosen of late,” he said. “This event would have coincided with the breaking of the Cage, if that is indeed what has happened.”

Dean frowned. “So?”

“Prophets are protected by archangels.”

“But there aren’t any left,” Sam pointed out.

“Which is why there has been a hold on the selection of new ones,” Cas explained, “and any already existing have been assigned specially trained angels to act as ‘bodyguards’. This new prophet is the first to appear since…” Cas faltered, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Since the death of Raphael. The fact that the Cage was breached at the same time is significant.”

“Hold on a sec,” Dean interrupted. “Are you saying that one of the archangels got out? Because a minute ago you just said they were both still in Azkaban.”

“I never mentioned any Azkaban, Dean, but yes, Michael and Lucifer are both still in imprisonment. In fact, their guard has been increased.”

Ignoring the typical Castiel uselessness at modern referencing, Dean tried to understand what the angel was saying. “So you think that whatever got out of the Cage is headed towards this new prophet?”

“Yes.”

Sam looked confused. “But why are you telling us? Aren’t the angels sorting this out?”

Cas’ shoulders dropped. “No, they are not.”

“Why not?”

He let out a soft sigh, actually rubbing a hand over his face. “Heaven is still in disarray,” he explained. “Now that there is no definite leader, nobody is quite sure from whom we should take orders. Similarly, it is not clear who is to give the orders.”

“Can’t you step in?” Dean asked. “You were going for that at one point.”

Castiel looked slightly haunted by the memory. “My position in Heaven has been somewhat… reduced in light of my recent actions,” he admitted. “It was felt that this was the best compromise, enough to satisfy everyone.”

Scrutinising him, Dean asked, “How far reduced?”

Cas didn’t blink. “Far enough.”

As the tension began to climb steadily higher, Sam stepped in to get them back on track. “So why did you come to us, Cas? What do you think we can do that angels can’t?”

“You mean besides sort themselves out?” Dean muttered, receiving a bitchy look for his troubles.

“I was able to find out where this ‘escapee’ supposedly landed,” Cas informed them. “It was here, in America.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Minnesota.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Minnesota?”

“Windom, Minnesota, to be precise.”

Something clicked in Sam’s mind. “Wait – that’s where Adam lived.” Both Dean and Castiel looked at him with puzzled expressions. “Adam was in the Cage!”

Confused by the funny flip his stomach did, Dean voiced the question they were all thinking. “Could he have gotten out then?” They turned to Cas.

“It seems unlikely,” he said hesitantly. “After all, this is merely a rumour at best. If we are wrong, this trip will be for nothing, and something else is afoot.”

“And Adam’s still in there,” Sam added forlornly. 

His face fell, and Dean had the urge to comfort and reassure him. “Hey,” he said forcefully, catching his brother’s eye. “Adam’s got Winchester blood in him. If that counts for anything – and it should, ‘cause the guy’s been in and out of Heaven like a yoyo – then he’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Having spent many nights over many years reassuring his little brother, Dean had become fairly good at putting sincerity behind words he didn’t believe in.

***

Lily pressed her back into the wall at the end of her hallway, trying to keep her breathing quiet. At the back of her mind, something told her she should have expected this sooner or later, but all she could really think of was how terrified she was – terrified that another dream had come to pass, and terrified that the monster she dreamed of was now coming towards her.

It was a huge skeleton – so big it had to stoop to walk down the hall, bony knees bent slightly, and even then its purple crescent hat brushed against the ceiling. Its huge, matching purple cloak trailed along the floor behind it, and in its right hand it held a staff that almost touched the ceiling too. The orb at the top alternated between glowing painfully white, frosty blue, and burning orange, all the time with something similar to lightning writhing at its centre, as if all the elements were at war with each other inside it. Such a thing would have been mesmerising if she wasn’t so scared (and it was all slightly ridiculous. Come on, a giant skeleton wearing a hat and cloak like a wizard? Seriously…). 

The skeleton glided towards her again, the sound of bone scraping the wooden floor making her own bones tremble. Why hadn’t her parents returned? Why had a strange boy shown up outside her house? Why were her dreams suddenly coming true? Why was this thing in front of her now? Of all those questions, she knew the answer to one, and as the monster drew closer still, she found herself praying.

She saw the light from behind closed eyelids. Putting her hands up automatically did nothing to dim the sudden brightness either, and Lily’s ears were filled with a horrific screeching. When she dared to look, the monster was stumbling backwards away from her, arms also up protectively in front of its face. It fell to its knees, and Lily’s jaw dropped involuntarily. A hand grabbed her arm, and she whirled round, expecting another one to be grinning sadistically down at her. Instead, it was – “Adam?!”

“Come on,” he said calmly, tugging her arm where he gripped her tightly. “Pick up a bag on the way out,” he added. Though his tone was steady, he moved quickly through the house, and the way he held her told Lily he was, at best, nervous. He led her through the living room towards the garden, and just as he said there were two duffel bags waiting by the glass doors. Without breaking stride he scooped on up and onto his shoulder, and Lily quickly mimicked him before stepping out into the cold evening air. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to break free from his hold. “Adam, where are we going? Do you even know what that thing was?”

“Not really,” he said grimly, neither looking at her nor relaxing his grip. “As soon as we get to the car I’ll tell you all I’ve been told.”

“And that means what, exactly?” Lily had given up trying to free herself, and was now concerned with keeping up.

“It means we have to leave.”

“But my parents –”

“Aren’t coming back.”

Had she been walking on her own, Lily would have stopped there and then. As it was, she stumbled forward as Adam pulled her on, unaware of the effect his words had on her. She didn’t need to ask him what he meant – that was pretty obvious – but half of her couldn’t quite believe it. Maybe he just meant they were missing, or being held captive. She could live with that. But if he did mean that her parents were… dead…

“Here.” Adam threw the bags over the back of her fence, before cupping his hands to give her a boost over. “Lily,” he said sharply, “let’s move.”

The sound of something breaking in her home restored some movement to Lily’s limbs. She landed heavily on the other side, turning robotically to face the car that was randomly parked on the road behind her house. She’d never seen it before, but the way Adam strode up to it suggested this was their ‘getaway vehicle’. “Get in,” he said, popping the trunk and dropping the bags inside. 

At first, Lily told herself the only reason she did what he said was because she wanted answers. Later, though, she had to concede that it was because, with Adam, she felt some sense of safety.


	2. The First Motel and the One Thousandth Sleepless Night

Rubbing his aching eyes, Sam finally folded down the lid of his laptop, jaw widening as he let out a yawn. Looking at the clock, he decided that perhaps half three in the morning was a sign to say he should go to bed. Dean would probably want to be up early, and though he could always sleep in the Impala it was hard sometimes (particularly with his brother’s choice of music).

Stiffly making his way over to the bed, Sam slipped off his shoes before sitting on its edge. He was hot, he thought, and took off his shirt too, wondering how Dean could bear to be under the covers at all.

“Mmh, how can he stand it?” a voice mused. “In fact, looking at him, you wouldn’t think he even felt warm. Oh – maybe he’s not, and it’s just you?”

Sam’s heart stopped. He refused to believe it. He was just hearing things – another memory from Hell. Overtiredness was probably causing it.

“Aw, Sam,” his voice crooned. “Don’t cry about it. It’s not my fault it’s hot down here. But anyway – aren’t you gonna say hello?”

Sam closed his eyes. “I’m just hearing things,” he said to himself. “This is just a memory. Lucifer isn’t here.”

“You are hearing things. But, this isn’t ‘just a memory’. And actually, I’m standing right behind you.”

Sam whipped his head around – and sure enough, there was Lucifer, dressed as Nick, smiling and waving as if this was perfectly normal. It wasn’t, and Sam leapt off the bed in fright, only just remembering not to scream and wake up his brother. “You’re not real!” he gasped.

Lucifer pouted. “Come on, Sam,” he whined. “Don’t treat me like that. All I want is to hear you say hello!” Sam said nothing, and he rolled his eyes. “Look, it’s really not that hard – say it with me: hel-lo loo-si-furrrr!”

“What do you want?” Sam growled.

Lucifer tutted. “Fine, if that’s all I’m getting.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d come and see how you were doing down here. It’s been so long since I heard you scream. I miss the sound.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not in the Cage anymore.”

The Devil smirked. “You sure about that?”

About to reply, Sam felt the words melt on his tongue – probably literally; he suddenly felt hot enough to roast a pig. His head went light, his mouth and throat too dry, his lungs heaving with scorching air as he started to sweat. It felt like the world’s worst fever, only he knew the cause and it wasn’t sickness. He could even smell the sulphur, faintly in the background alongside the stench of burning flesh, and the scents made his stomach heave. He reached out for the bed, felt himself fall onto it, and there he knelt, fisting the sheets as if they were an anchor to the real world. 

Lucifer snickered. “You humans never like the heat – not really,” he sneered. “Either way, you can’t handle it. But you’ve got nothing to worry about, remember Sam?” He bent over, bringing his face level with Sam’s so that he could whisper: “I prefer to run cold.”

Even as he said it, the memory overwhelmed him – the memory of being on fire and feeling himself freeze. He had watched the fire burn his skin, but it was ice that had run through his veins and lashed at his soul. The times he did burn had been when Michael or the demons had taken a swipe at him, but the demons didn’t have fire like an archangel did. That the Cage itself was made of fire only added to the mixed sensations, and even though it had brought him pain Sam wished to feel the cold on his skin instead of this burning. How had Adam withstood this?

Watching Sam curl into a ball on the bed, Lucifer chuckled gleefully. “I love it when you do that!” he cried. “But seriously Sammy – no sleep for you!” His voice was sing-song, but not as sinister as he could usually make it. The sinister tone came when he leant over to murmur directly into Sam’s ear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

Through the confused waves in his brain, Sam was able to think of one crucial thing. “Adam!” he grunted. “Michael – where are they?”

“Those two?” Lucifer looked around. “They’re not here. Why would they be? This is your Torture World, Sam. Our dear brothers have nothing to do with this.”

Grimacing as he felt the sting of ice in his core, Sam shook his head. “Not the Cage!”

He heard a sigh. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Didn’t you learn anything from our getting-to-know-you sessions?” Lucifer twisted a smile onto Nick’s face, and Sam had to look away to stop being flooded with horror-filled memories. “I don’t lie!” And as much as he hated to believe it, Sam had to – because it was true. Whenever Lucifer had had time to ‘play’ with his true vessel, he would outline to Sam everything he was going to do to him in frighteningly specific detail. Then he would do exactly what he said. He would warn Sam of the next time he would come, leaving him with a “pinky promise” before letting Duncan have his fun. He told Sam which methods he preferred, tell him what noises he would force out of Adam, even what his latest fight with Michael had been like. So what reason did Sam have for possibly doubting that he was still in the Cage after all this time?

“Dean.”

“Is fake,” Lucifer said, but Sam shook his head.

“No.” He pushed himself up and the ice caught the cry of pain before it could leave his chest. “No he’s not.”

“Let’s think about this, Sam,” Lucifer said, a warning note creeping into his voice. “I’m the Devil, and I don’t lie. I’ve just told you this world is a form of torture, and that you’re still in the Cage. Add that to ‘I don’t lie’ and you have…?”

Sam sat on the bed, glaring at the fallen angel between strands of hair. “I know you don’t lie, and I know what you’re capable of,” he said. “But there’s one thing you could never recreate – and that’s my brother.”

Smiling. Lucifer was still smiling. It was a confident, almost smug expression that made Sam want to shrink away into a dark corner where he could hide out of sight. “We’ll see about that,” the Devil said softly, and Sam could already see the calculations forming in Nick’s borrowed eyes. “Boo!”

“Ah!”

Sam jolted upright, slipping off the edge of the bed and landing jarringly on his hip. Wincing, he reached up to pull himself back on to the mattress – and noticed that his shirt was in his hand, and it was torn; a rather large tear through the back, ragged and zigzagged, as if someone had done it by hand.

“Holy crap,” he breathed, then remembered who had been stood behind him seconds ago and looked around sharply. There was no sign of Lucifer. In fact, he realised, he didn’t even feel hot anymore, and there was no ice in his belly. On the other motel bed, Dean was still sleeping easily, and it was clear that actually he did have reason to wrap himself beneath the covers.

Shaking in time to his beating heart, Sam slowly slid into his own bed, barely noticing the cool stroke of the sheets on his clammy skin. Lying on his side he fixed his gaze on Dean, knowing that if Dean slept through the night then he was safe, and Lucifer was nowhere to be found. All he had to do was keep thinking straight, keep himself ground to reality, and everything would be fine. He would sleep without trouble, with his big brother in the other bed like he always had been when they were younger. There was no Lucifer, and he was not in the Cage. He couldn’t be.

Sam stared at Dean until morning. Lucifer didn’t come, but neither did sleep.

***

Adam didn’t sleep. Having spent so many sleepless nights in the Cage his body had become accustomed to running without it. It was as if he had a perpetual supply of energy. Regardless, though, sleep was undesirable. He knew what would happen if he closed his eyes, despite what Michael had told him; to close his eyes was to re-live the horrors he’d just escaped from, and even though he experienced flashes of it throughout the day there was a difference between a memory flash and re-living an experience.

The first night back on Earth, he’d gotten bored fairly quickly. Lily had been kind enough to lend him her phone, but when she’d given it to him tonight it had already dropped down to twenty per cent battery life. Stupid phone. At least he could still access the Intern- Bollocks. Sighing in frustration, Adam forgot himself and tossed the dead phone onto the floor.

“Hey.” Lily’s mumbled protest didn’t sound as sleepy as it probably should have done, and Adam turned his head towards her bed. She was watching him from where she lay, glaring at him for how he treated her phone, and he had to admit that he did feel slightly bad about throwing it. Just barely though.

“Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

Sitting up, Lily turned on the bedside lamp. “Can’t sleep again?”

“Nope. You?”

“No.” She pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking her knees against her chest. “I keep… I keep seeing that skeleton thing, and I dreamt that it had my parents…” She trailed off, but Adam could fill in the rest.

“Hey, I’ve been there. It’s true,” he insisted when she shot him a sceptical look. “My mom was killed by this thing called a ghoul. Then it killed me, looking like her the whole time.” Then they tried to kill his stupid half-brothers, but he wasn’t going into that territory. Yet.

Lily cringed. “My God, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Adam shrugged. Yeah, he missed his mom like he was missing an organ, but he’d come to terms with what had happened during what felt like his very long life. Or was it? In reality, he was still only nineteen – or twenty something now? – yet because he spent so long in Hell he felt much, much older than twenty. Twenty was the age of a child. He had always been a child in the Cage – 

“Adam!”

Blinking, Adam tried to understand what he’d just missed. “What?”

“I said what will we do in the morning? We can’t stay here. What if it’s following us?”

“Oh it’s following us. Or more specifically you.”

In the lamplight, Lily’s eyes widened. “What?”

Sensing that perhaps that wasn’t the best thing he could’ve said, he tried to make amends. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. I know someone who can, like, hide you.”

She frowned. “Like a smuggler or something?”

“No. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s not.” Then again, Adam had no idea with angels anymore.

Lily seemed eager to be ‘hidden’. “Well when can you call him?”

Adam was about to say ‘anytime’, when he realised that he couldn’t actually remember the angel’s name. Dammit. “Uh, I’ll try first thing in the morning.” That seemed to satisfy her. “You should get some sleep until then though.”

She nodded, but looked around the room anxiously, as if she expected the shadows to drag her off without warning. “I’ve never stayed in a motel before,” she mumbled.

Adam scoffed. “Is it living up to your wildest expectations?”

“Yes.” At first he thought she was being sarcastic, but then she carried on, deadly serious. “I saw this motel in a dream last night.”

He frowned, shifting on his bed so that he faced her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “it didn’t seem important. I mean, it’s just a motel.”

“Did anything else happen?”

Lily shook her head, but after he eyed her suspiciously for a couple of seconds she growled, “Nothing happened,” from between clenched teeth.

He held up his hands. “Okay, easy. Just making sure. Now come on – try and sleep.”

With a resigned huff, Lily wriggled back down under her covers. It was a long time before she was truly asleep (and he could sense that her dreams – her actual dreams – were uneasy), and that was when he busied himself with trying to remember. What was that damn angel’s name, the one who’d dragged him to his half-brothers in the first place?

 _Castiel_.

Castiel! Of course. Adam almost smiled, a brief feeling of elation dashing once around his body. It thrummed pleasantly in his chest before dying with the realisation that he didn’t actually know how to call an angel. Was there some special ritual? Did he need to use a different language? What if he needed a particular item? Eventually, he went for simple prayer.

“Castiel,” he whispered, “it’s me, Adam Milligan. I need your help – the Boarder House Motel, Minnesota.”

The sound of wings (so weak and gentle compared to the magnificent, terrifying appendages of the archangels) – and then Castiel was stood at the end of the bed, eyes wide in the dark as he stared at the Winchester half-blood. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so Adam filled the silence instead.

“I need to call my brothers.”

***

It took Dean a while to register that his phone was ringing. Maybe because he was actually deep in sleep for once, curled up into a foetal position he would never want to be caught in – but it was ringing, and he sluggishly realised that that would mean someone wanted him to answer it. Cursing whoever it was for calling at… well, he didn’t want to know, but he finally reached out an arm and pulled the phone off the table. “Yeah?”

“Hello Dean.”

Who else? Really, who else had he expected? “What the hell Cas? It’s –” He actually dared to look at his watch then, which innocently told him it was five past four in the morning. “It’s too early. What do you want?” he snapped.

“You and Sam need to leave, now, and drive for approximately two hours North, maybe a bit longer.”

Dean was tempted to outright refuse, but he knew that Castiel rarely called without reason. “Okay. You wanna say why?”

“Of course, I should probably explain. Do you remember my –” As Cas suddenly broke off mid-sentence, Dean could just about make out someone talking in a hushed tone on the other end. “Very well. Is there a phrase I have to say to Dean so that he knows what I’m doing?”

There was a burst of static, indicating that the phone was being jostled somewhat, before a new speaker introduced themselves; “Dean, it’s Adam.”

Blinking in the dark, Dean asked his sleep-drugged brain if he’d heard that correctly. “Adam?” he echoed.

“Yeah.”

Still processing it, he sat up. “Adam as in… Milligan-not-Winchester Adam?”

There was an impatient sigh. “Yes, Adam Milligan. Look, you need to do what Castiel says.”

Dean’s first instinct was to tell whoever it was impersonating his imprisoned brother to kindly crawl back into whatever hole they’d been spat out of, but as his brain started to properly wake up he concluded that if Castiel was there, then this was legit – it was really Adam talking to him. That, or someone was impersonating Cas, too. He groaned. It was too early for this shit. “Why should we?” he asked, hoping Adam would understand the blunt tone.

“Because I’ve got a prophet with me, and we’re both being hunted by a monster neither of us have seen before. I want to know if you and Sam can help me take it down.”

“And you want us to come out into the middle of the night to do this?”

“Yeah, I figured the sooner the –”

“Whoa whoa, wait, wait a second.” Dean’s mind did a double take as some of Adam’s words sunk in. “Did you say help you take it down?”

“Yeah.”

The urge to yell was incredible. “Kid, are you out of your mind? Don’t answer that,” he said suddenly, remembering where it was Adam had been for the last two years. Actually, thinking about it, it was amazing they were having a conversation at all, let alone a coherent one! 

“I’m serious, Dean,” Adam said, sounding frustrated. “I know it’s not exactly the best time to call, but the sooner the better, right? I mean, I don’t know where this thing is at the minute or how powerful it is, or –”

“And what makes you think we’ll know?”

“Well that’s what you do isn’t it? Research things then take ‘em out.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, well normally we have some sort of idea what we’re dealing with. And books,” he added, “and a library. In case you didn’t know Adam, we’re in the fucking middle of nowhere here. We can’t just up shit and leave because you want some info!”

“This isn’t for me, Dean,” Adam snapped, “it’s for Lily!”

“She this prophet?”

“Yeah she is, and she’s just fifteen. Her parents are dead, and I’m all she’s got.” His tone turned softer, almost pleading as he continued. “Dean, she’s scared. If we don’t do something to help her, she’ll die, and I can’t… I won’t let that happen. But I need to know what I’m up against.”

“Look, Adam,” Dean tried again. “I already said: you can’t handle this. If you want to meet up, then fine, we’ll meet and help you guys out. But now, really?”

“Please Dean. You’re the only people I thought of who can do anything.”

Despite the circumstances (and past interactions between them), Dean was touched by the sentiment behind the statement. Adam was young, too – he didn’t have anyone, like this girl Lily, and if anyone knew and valued the importance of family, it was the Winchesters. “Fine. Two hours North? Straight?”

“Yeah, just follow the road,” Adam told him, sounding relieved. “We should meet up somewhere along it.” He paused. “Thanks.”

“That’s okay. Is, uh, is Cas still there?”

“Yeah. You want me to put him on?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” And the phone sounded as if it was being passed over to an angel who didn’t quite understand what was happening.

“Hello again Dean.”

“Hey Cas. I was just wondering –” and God knows why, because Castiel’s judgement hasn’t exactly been brilliant lately – “what’s your view on all this? I mean… is it really him?”

“Yes Dean. He is clearly human, and there are no signs of possession or mental health problems that I can detect. I would double check with holy water, of course, but seeing as I have none –”

“That, that’s not necessary, thanks.” Dean made a mental note to teach Castiel about tact. “Although, speaking of mental health, I think you should take a look at Sam as soon as you can.”

The meaning was implicit, but the pause between what he said and Castiel’s answer confirmed that he’d understood. “You’re right. Would you like me to find you now?”

“No, no, just tag along with Adam or something. Maybe you can, uh, shed some light on his situation for him. Help this girl Lily, or whatever.”

“I’ll do what I can, Dean.”

Dean swallowed. “You better.” Then he hung up.

“Are you sure about this?”

Believing he had been alone, Dean was only half surprised to see Sam sat up on the next bed, concern etched into his face. “About what?”

“About Adam.”

Sighing, he tossed the phone back onto the table, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “Sam, I don’t know what to believe right now, but if Cas thinks it’s legit, then… well, I’d say there’s a good chance it is. He wants to make amends, after all.”

“By taking a look at me, huh?”

Dean gave him a serious look. “We are not discussing this.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dean –”

“No you are not ‘fine’, Sam,” he cut in. “And don’t lie to me, I’m trying to help here.”

“You don’t need to look after me,” Sam insisted. “We have more important things now – Adam’s alive again, for all we know, he could be –”

“Traumatised?” Dean finished. “Yeah, he could be, but the strange thing is he sounded perfectly fine on the phone, and I wanna know why he’s hunky dory after spending a hell of a lot more time down there while you’re sitting on the edge of insanity!”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Sam shook his head. “What do you want me to say, Dean?” he asked quietly. “I can’t explain this anymore than you can.”

“I want you to tell me if you feel anything, see anything, hear anything you shouldn’t. Understand?” Dean climbed out of bed, flipping on the light and putting on his shoes. “And I want you to get packed. We’re leaving.”

“You mean we’re actually gonna go and meet up with him?”

“Yeah. Kid needs our help, and he’s family. Whether he likes it or not.”


	3. And the Holy Becomes Unholy

“So, we’re meeting Dean and Sam, who are hunters?”

In the borrowed car, Adam had just finished briefing Lily on what was happening. He’d asked Castiel to transport her to the car via the angel route so he didn’t have to wake her up, and now that she had woken up, she wanted answers. He had been driving most of the morning, and dawn was just uncovering the dry scrubland around them. “Yep.”

“They also happen to be your half-brothers?”

He stifled a sigh. “Apparently.”

Lily twisted round in her seat. “And you’re an angel?”

The man – er, being? – in the trench-coat stared at her serenely. “Yes. My name is Castiel.”

She frowned at him. “You don’t look very angely.”

“That is because I am wearing a vessel.”

“A – a vessel?” The new prophet let her jaw hang open as she tried to understand. “You mean, like, that’s some random guy you just ‘took over’?”

“His name was Jimmy Novak, and he was a very devout man,” Castiel said, as if they were having a casual, everyday conversation.

Lily rubbed her head. “But, why?”

Castiel blinked. “He believed in God.”

“What? No, I mean why do you have to have a… vessel?”

“Because angels like to play dress-up,” Adam said, smirking when Castiel threw him a disparaging look.

“Our true form is too much for humans to be able to perceive,” he explained. “To see my true form would be to loose your ability to see.”

Lily gawped. “Seriously?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But you said you were possessed?” This was directed at Adam, who squirmed at being reminded.

“Yeah it’s not exactly a day at the funfair,” he told her. “But you don’t have to worry about this guy. My brothers trust him, so he’s good.”

Castiel frowned. Adam missed it, but Lily didn’t, and she wondered why the compliment wasn’t taken that way. Deciding that angels were too confusing to try and work out now, she tried to settle into the seat. A dull ache washed across her torso, and she sucked in a breath as she rubbed her ribs to try and soothe them. “My chest hurts,” she told Adam. “How roughly did you move me from my bed to the car?”

“I didn’t,” he said, not taking his eyes off the empty road. “They hurt because Castiel put… something on them.”

“Enochian wards,” Castiel supplied. “I carved them into your ribcage to protect you from harm in some situations.”

“You carved them into my ribcage?” she echoed incredulously.

“Yes. Dean, Sam and Adam all have a similar ward protecting them from angels.”

“Sons of bitches ain’t finding me,” Adam said with a wry smirk.

His comment threw Lily off. “Why would Adam need protection from angels?” she asked. “Aren’t you guys good?” She turned to Castiel, expecting him to berate Adam for cursing his species – but the angel wouldn’t meet her gaze, instead seeming to find something more interesting outside the window (which was ridiculous – there was road, sky, and dusty earth). She looked at Adam’s dark face, and refused to believe it. “Come on,” she scoffed. “You’re angels.”

“My brothers do not always act in the best interest of humans,” Castiel said slowly, now gazing at his lap. “You see, we are soldiers, disciplined and obedient.”

“They’ll manipulate whoever they want to do whatever they want however they want,” Adam added bitterly. “As long as they achieve their goal, they don’t care who gets hurt along the way.”

Lily frowned. “I don’t get it,” she said softly, turning back to Castiel. “Then why are you here?”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “Some of us rebel,” he answered. “It is not common, and not undertaken lightly. And often severely punished.”

The human girl was becoming more and more confused by the second, but she felt some gratitude towards the angel in the backseat of the car. “So you’re risking punishment to be here?”

“I’m already being punished.”

“How?”

Castiel turned inwards for a second, his eyes losing their focus, before he addressed Adam. “We’re close. We should be able to see it in twenty five minutes or so.” Adam nodded to the rear-view mirror. Lily heard a gentle flapping sound, and when she looked round Castiel had gone.

“Don’t worry, angels do that,” Adam assured her.

Staring blindly out the windscreen, Lily tried to order what she’d learnt. “Angels aren’t really evil, are they Adam?”

He shrugged. “Some are. I’ve met one who was a legendary dick.” That was too light a word, but he didn’t want to bother choosing a more befitting one. Why waste effort on the devil?

“So then why did Castiel make out that they were?”

Adam sighed, wishing he didn’t have to answer this question. “I don’t know really Lily. I guess, maybe, they’re more political? You heard what he said: they’re soldiers. Are soldiers good or bad?”

Lily’s voice was small. “Yeah, but…”

“Forget about it,” he told her. “Castiel told me he might have an idea about what we’re facing. He said he’d tell us when we meet the others.” He looked across at her, taking in the deep frown lines and the hand on her forehead. “You wanna try get some more sleep until then?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled, and so he left it at that. The remainder of their journey passed in silence.

***

Not long after they set off, Dean was relieved to see that Sam had fallen asleep next to him. That relief became palpable though when that sleep became restless; Sam would mutter incoherently, twitch, and at one point he started sweating. Loathe to wake him up, Dean let him fight it out, only waking him up when he saw something on the side of the road.

“Think that’s them?” Squinting through the sleepy film that covered his eyes, Sam could make out two figures stood by a car. They both looked fairly young, but one was clearly male and the other female. Heart racing, he agreed, and Dean pulled off the road to stop in front of them. They hesitated before getting out. “Ready?” Dean asked, watching his brother carefully.

Sam was looking at Adam. It was actually Adam, standing right there… he hoped. “Yeah.” And with that, the Impala’s doors opened, and the Winchesters stepped out into the dim sunlight.

The four of them stood in a loose square, seemingly sizing each other up. The girl – Lily – looked nervous and tired, and Dean found it hard to believe she had been chosen as a prophet. She was so young; she shouldn’t be involved in this already. As for Adam – well, Dean was surprised at how okay he seemed. There was something different, though: he looked rougher, but not in a bad way. Rougher as though he could protect himself or another if he needed to. However, there were noticeable dark shadows beneath his eyes. Dean wasn’t surprised. It took Hell escapees a while to become accustomed to peaceful sleeping again, but from what he’d seen with Sam Cage escapees were a whole different kettle.

“Adam,” Sam said.

Their brother nodded. “Sam.” 

Then, before Dean could put out his own greeting, Sam stepped forward, arms wide, saying warmly: “I’m so glad you’re here!”

The ensuing bear-hug (which was the only way any hug from Sam could be described as) stunned Dean – and also made him the teeniest bit envious. Sure, Sam and Adam had been through a lot together, but Dean had understood the kid better when he was alive for the second time, even if that time had been brief. He would’ve liked at least a nod of acknowledgement before the two got sentimental on him. 

“Hey,” he said to the girl instead, holding out his hand. “You must be Lily, right?”

“Yeah,” she answered hesitantly, taking his offering. “And you’re Dean?”

“Yep. That emotional giant over there’s my brother, Sam.” And he jerked a thumb in said giant’s direction. “So, we hear you’re a prophet?”

An anxious smile told him that the girl was trying to be brave about it all. “Apparently,” she said. “Never saw that one coming when he told me.”

Dean grinned at the joke to give her some confidence, then picked up on what she’d said. “He who?”

“That angel friend of yours. Um, Castiel?”

“Cas?”

“Uh, yeah,” Adam interjected, “I called him in and he told us.” Now separated from Sam, he finally gave Dean a smile. “Hey Dean.”

“Hey kid,” he responded, even returning the smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

Surprisingly, there was a lot Dean wanted to say in that moment. He wanted to tell Adam he was sorry: sorry that he left him behind, that he hadn’t been able to go back for him, that Adam had been stuck down there for longer than he should have been – hell, he should never have been there in the first place! The kid had gone through so much shit, all because he had some Winchester in his blood. Dean knew Adam didn’t care about that, but he was sure that Adam’s life would have been more peaceful if John Winchester hadn’t been his father.

Adam wiped his hands on his trousers, then gestured vaguely between them all. “Sam, Dean, this is Lily. Lily, these are… my brothers.”

“Hey Lily,” Sam said, practically beaming at her.

“Hi,” she squeaked, and Dean could’ve sworn she edged closer to Adam.

“We heard you’ve been having a bit of trouble lately,” Sam continued.

Lily nodded, and looked as if she was about to speak, but someone beat her to it. “She’s being hunted.” Lily nearly jumped right into Adam as Castiel materialised next to her, all deep-voice and intense-staring.

Dean had to hide his grin. “Yeah, it was mentioned in the memo, Cas. Do you know what by?”

“An Enochian Priest.”

He blinked. “Right. Well, we encounter them every day, so let’s get to it.”

“No we don’t, Dean,” the angel said, looking confused. Dean raised an eyebrow and waited. “Oh.” Cas’ face cleared. “You were being sarcastic.”

“Glad to see you’re getting it, buddy.”

“So you guys don’t know what this priest thing is?” Adam asked.

Sam shook his head. “‘Fraid not.”

“Guessing you’ve seen one?” Dean asked.

Adam looked at Lily, who nodded gingerly and took her cue. “It’s like… a huge skeleton. As in, too big to stand up straight in my hallway. It had a purple cloak, a purple hat, and this weird, staff thing that had some kind of energy ball on the end of it. And it’s eyes…” She visibly shuddered. “It’s eyes are just black holes.”

“So we’re up against Gigantor Bones?” Dean and Sam shared a look, and Dean nodded. “Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Hold on Dean,” Castiel interrupted. “This is no ordinary skeleton we’re talking about. This is an Enochian Priest – they are very old and very dangerous.”

There was a beat while everyone let that sink in, then Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “Alright then Cas. Enlighten us.”

“Enochian Priests were made by God,” Castiel began, looking at each one of them in turn. “He created them after He made the angels and archangels, and they were designed to act as ‘tutors’ to the angels, to teach them about His vision. He gave them great power, and told them much. Unfortunately, this corrupted them, and the archangels were forced to vanquish them. They were sent into Purgatory, and God left the archangels in charge of all angel-kind.” He locked eyes with Dean briefly, and it was hard not to miss the guilt threatening to spill out from their blue depths. “This one appears skeletal because it was stripped of its glory before being banished. I doubt it is capable of direct speech, but that does not mean it is not clever. I believe it seeks to acquire Lily’s soul for itself.”

“Why?” Adam demanded, and Dean took note of how he and Lily had seemingly gravitated towards one another, though they were both transfixed on Castiel.

Cas shrugged. “I cannot say for sure, but from what I know of them, I would say it would manipulate her soul into working for it. Lily would be left soulless, or at best used as a puppet.” Lily whimpered, and Adam wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“That’s not going to happen,” he told her. He looked to his brothers for confirmation. “Right?”

It was a big ask. Adam couldn’t have been back from the Cage for more than a few days at most, Dean figured, but already he wanted to be able to guarantee a girl’s safety from a nasty they’d never encountered before? Thinking the odds were probably stacked against them, Dean gave the only answer he could; “We’ll do our best,” he said, and beside him Sam nodded. Adam looked disappointed. Dean could only hope that he was old enough – and perhaps now experienced enough – to know that that was the only truthful answer he could’ve given.

***

Castiel had suggested they found someplace to stay rather than working out how to fight the Priest in the middle of nowhere. Because the motel Adam and Lily had come from was slightly closer and cheaper, they agreed to reconvene there. Adam and Lily had been talking when Dean and Sam drove away, and now the two Winchesters were sat hunched over ‘borrowed’ books from Castiel in a dingy room at the Boarder House motel, trying to find anything that could help them gank their new foe. It was slow (as in, practically non-existent) progress, and Dean was becoming tired and irritable as time dragged on. Why couldn't they be facing something simpler?

“How do you do it, Dean?”

Dean looked up from the passage he was reading. “Do what?”

His brother took a second to form the words. “Cope,” he said, “with what happened in Hell.”

Mildly surprised by the direct statement, Dean fixed Sam with a hard glare. “Our experiences of Hell were very different Sam.”

“I get that, but I just feel like I could use some guidelines, you know?”

“Well here’s one.” Dean smirked, the action devoid of all humour. “Be thankful you never hurt another soul down there.”

Sam sighed. “Dean –”

“Come on, what do you want me to say, man?” Dean asked. “It’s not like you can compare my experiences to yours and draw up a ‘Beginner’s Guide to Hell-Style PTSD’!”

“That’s not what I’m asking for,” Sam said softly, a hint of exasperation to his words.

“Well that’s all I got,” Dean snapped, turning pointedly back to his book.

There was a noise of frustration from Sam. “Dean, don’t you think we should be talking about this?”

Dean clenched his jaw. “No we shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“What’s there to say?” Met with silence, Dean looked up again, and Sam saw in his eyes a ferocity that said he really, really didn’t want to talk about this. “Hell isn’t a holiday that you can compare with your neighbours, Sam, and I’m sorry to say this but if you want to learn how to cope, do it on your own. I did. And yeah, maybe I only spent a measly forty years down there – you spent one hundred and fifty. Fine, you win.”

“I can trump that.”

Reflexively, the Winchester brothers shot to their feet, turning to the door where the interrupting voice had come from. Adam stood under the frame, his shadowed eyes fixed on the space between them as if he couldn’t quite see them both. A cold silence followed his words, penetrated by Sam; “Adam –”

“Don’t.” Adam’s gaze snapped to his giant brother’s face, his companion from Hell. “You have no idea what I went through down there alone. Neither of you do.” His voice was low and his words were clipped, eyes skating back and forth between the two brothers, and Dean thought he looked like an animal on the defensive. 

Sam persisted. “That’s not true. You and I were there together, Adam.”

“Yeah, and then we weren’t. You got lucky – someone cared enough to pull you out. Well I wasn’t that fortunate, and once you were gone –” He cut himself off, hands fisting at his sides as he struggled to control the trembling of his body.

Shaking his head, Sam tried again. “I didn’t want to leave you behind Adam, believe me. And if it’s any consolation at all, I didn’t get out… ‘whole’.”

“Oh yeah, that’s real reassuring.” Adam’s smile was bitter and cynical, and Dean felt a little riled at the venom that was directed at his brother.

“Look kid, it’s not as if we didn’t try to get you out,” he said. “But Hell makes harsh bargains, and we couldn’t wing it. We’re sorry, okay?”

Adam looked at him blankly. “You’re sorry,” he repeated. “Right. I feel so much better knowing that.”

“Hey, now that ain’t fair –”

“No, you wanna know what’s unfair?” he cut in loudly. “What’s unfair is having what little happiness you have in Heaven pulled out from underneath you by a bunch of lying weasels, who call themselves angels, then proceed to use you as bait for your own brother before deciding to shove an archangel into your skull anyway. Said archangel then takes you on a joyride to destroy the earth, but only ends up getting you thrown in to a prison designed for the frigging devil for three hundred and twenty five years.”

Whatever Dean had been planning to say in retaliation was blown apart by his half-brother’s final words. He stared. “Three hun…” It just didn’t comprehend.

Sam was having similar trouble. “You were there for another two hundred years?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“How are you keeping it together?” Dean asked, partly in wonder, partly out of genuine concern.

“Oh I’m not,” Adam replied cheerily, as though someone asked him if he enjoyed a recent holiday. “But I’ve got a little help.” He tapped the side of his head.

“You have a wall too?” Sam asked eagerly.

Adam pulled a tiny frown. “No,” he said, “I’ve got Michael.”

“Michael?” Dean repeated sharply. “That son of a bitch hijacked his way out too?”

“Not exactly; more like, he gave me a piece of himself to take with me and act as a ‘buffer’ for the memories.”

“Are you out of your mind?” he near-shouted. Adam gave him a bland look. “This is Michael we’re talking about – you know, the douche who forced himself into you and got you stuck in Hell in the first place? What made you think bringing even a tiny piece of him back out would be okay?”

“You don’t know him.” Adam’s tone was hard.

“I know him well enough to know that he’s only concerned with his so-called ‘duty’.” The thought of Michael wearing his dad’s young body made Dean tense up, and he clenched his jaw to expel some of the anger that surged through him. “If he uses you again in any way Adam, I swear to God –”

“He won’t.”

“Yeah, and how do you know?!”

“Because I know him!”

“Bullshit.”

“Dean,” Sam interjected softly. “It’s true.” Dean threw his brother a look of disbelief, so he continued. “In the Cage, Michael never tried to hurt us. Not once. He would fight with Lucifer most of the time, and perhaps once or twice we’d be caught up in the fray, but when Lucifer came for us Michael would try and stop him – especially if he went for Adam.”

The memory of Michael as John surfaced in Dean’s mind again, in particular one thing he said: 'Unlike my brothers, I won’t leave you a drooling mess when I’m done wearing you.' He’d healed Sam, made his parents happy too… “So the guy has nice moments,” he concluded. “That still doesn’t excuse what he did to us.”

Sam looked exasperated. “I know, but after all that time –”

“I’ve known Michael for three hundred years,” Adam said suddenly. Both Dean and Sam turned to him questioningly. “He had to promise me a lot of things before I said yes to him, and being in the Cage may have made him break those promises, but he protected me down there. He regretted that Sam and I were there, that we were caught in the middle of his and Lucifer’s fights, and yeah he may not have had a lot of time to spend babying us but at least he never abandoned me.” Sam shifted, and Adam continued to glare at them both fiercely. “When a way out was made, Michael used nearly all of his power to make sure I got out. This piece of him I took was for my protection, not for his gain – and I know that because during three hundred years I realised that Michael did actually care about us. He looked after me, and continues to do so even now.” He locked gazes with Dean, who could’ve sworn there was fire burning behind the boy’s eyes. “So don’t you dare tell me I haven’t thought this through when the fact is, Dean, that I’d trust Michael over the two of you any day.”

Noticing Sam flinch as though his words had actually hit him, Dean glowered at their younger brother, grudgingly thinking that he was just as stubborn as any Winchester he knew. “Fine. But any sign that he’s messing with you –”

“He won’t.”

“I’m gonna make him regret it. Okay?” Adam scowled at him, and Dean felt some tiny slither of victory. “You may not see us like we see you Adam, but to me and Sam you’re family. Dad didn’t want you in all of this crap, but now you’re in he’d expect us to watch your back.”

Adam scoffed. “I’m honoured.” He turned to leave, slinging one last comment over his shoulder. “Great job so far, by the way.”

It was a stark contrast to how their brother had greeted them, and Dean and Sam were left reeling. In fact, Dean couldn’t tell what surprised him more: Adam’s sudden mood swing or the fact that his final embittered words had actually stung. With a huff, Dean closed his book with more force than necessary and strode towards the door. “Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“To get a beer.” The door closed before any more could be said, and Dean escaped.


	4. Help Has a Beard

Lily jumped as Adam stormed back into their room. Throwing the door shut behind him, he proceeded to stand as if rooted to the spot, glaring at the floor and repeatedly clenching his hands into fists. He was obviously trying to calm down, his chest heaving as he took in several deep breaths, and Lily translated the raised voices she’d heard into ‘argument’. Across the hall, another door slammed.

“Please don’t punch anything,” she said quickly as Adam’s jaw twitched. He looked up at her voice, and she was relieved to see his eyes soften and the tension leave him a little.

“I won’t,” he said, though there were still traces of the argument in his tone. He eased himself down onto his bed, one hand fisted in the other, and stared determinedly ahead at nothing. Torn between whether to try and comfort him or not, Lily tentatively asked if he wanted to talk about it. He gave her a tight smile. “Just family drama. Where’s Castiel?”

The topic change screamed ‘diversion’ like a banshee, but Lily went with it. Adam, it seemed, had survived worse sibling fights than whatever had just happened. “He said he was going to talk to someone called Bobby, then he did that freaky vanishing thing.” Her shudder was involuntary, and made her feel a tiny bit guilty; Castiel was nice – he was a freaking angel – but the way she talked about him made him out to be some sort of monster. He’d been kind to her since they met, and she didn’t want to think badly of him if she could help it. 

“Bobby?” Lily nodded. “Huh. I forgot about him.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah. Well, no, but I’ve met him. Briefly.” And from the sounds of it, she guessed, it hadn’t resulted in the two being friends. “From what I saw, though, he’ll be able to help. And I’m fairly sure Sam and Dean trust him, so that’s good by me.”

The last sentence was said with a begrudging note. About to ask again what had happened between the three of them, Lily opened her mouth, only to be cut off by the sound of flapping wings. Looking to the sound, she was surprised to see Castiel stood back in the room again, this time accompanied by another man. He was older than Dean and Sam, with a grizzled beard and shrewd eyes under a cap that looked like it was rarely taken off. He wore the easy flannel shirt of a man who works at his leisure, and from the oil stains on his trousers Lily guessed he worked around machines. This, then, must be Bobby.

Their arrival was accompanied by a silence of the stunned variety. Glances were exchanged between Adam and Bobby, who then switched to scrutinise Lily before turning to Castiel behind him. “Alright, so you weren’t kidding,” he said. “But give me some goddamn warning next time you feel like zapping me someplace that ain’t the same state!”

“My apologies,” Castiel said. “I thought that bringing you here would be reassuring to Dean and Sam, as well as suspending your disbelief.”

“Oh it’s suspended alright,” Bobby muttered, looking back over his shoulder at Adam.

Adam became awkward all of a sudden. “Hey,” he muttered in greeting.

Bobby’s eyes tracked up and down him once. “How’d you get out in one piece?” he asked gruffly.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I don’t know about one piece, but then I’m not even sure what happened,” he said. “One moment I’m in… there, the next: Windom, Minnesota, a couple of streets down from where I used to live.”

Taking a moment to process this, Bobby nodded, then turned back to Castiel. “So I’m guessing the boys are nearby?”

“Yes, they’re in the other room.”

He wiped his hands on his trousers. “Okay. Let’s go see what they got.”

“Dean went out,” Adam said bluntly. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

“We heard a door slam,” Lily elaborated hesitantly. “There may have been an argument.”

Bobby heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly and muttering something like “Idjits” under his breath. Then, almost as abruptly as he had arrived, he left, and with an apologetic look Castiel followed him, leaving Adam and Lily to stare after them confusedly. 

***

“Enochian Priests? Not a lot,” Bobby told Sam when he asked him what he’d found on them. “As far as I can tell, no-one knows they exist.”

This wasn’t what Sam wanted to hear. “So, what, we’re going in blind?”

“Well I didn’t have time to look properly,” Bobby said, skewering Cas with a pointed sideways look, “but I wouldn’t say ‘blind’, per se.”

“You managed to get something?”

“Well I was thinking we had angel power on our side. That and a small hunch.”

“Spill.”

Bobby rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I know it may seem like a bit of a pointless question, but why’s Adam back? I mean it can hardly be coincidence that he pops up at the same time as this priest thing and a prophet. So, what’s the link?”

Sam glanced at their angelic companion. “Cas?”

Castiel pondered it for a second. “I can see a reason as to why Adam might have been resurrected,” he said. “But I’m afraid I cannot ascertain as to why a Priest would be after the girl. Perhaps it simply followed Adam when he was sent to Earth.”

“Well what can you tell us?”

Quickly checking over his shoulder, as if worried Adam might appear angel-style behind him, Cas explained. “Adam could have been resurrected to protect her. In the absence of any full archangels in heaven, and with Michael more or less inaccessible, he would be the ideal choice, particularly as Michael seems to have been able to send some of his grace out with him. He is, I suppose, a semi-angelic being.”

“Excuse me?” Bobby asked incredulously. 

“Oh, um, Adam didn’t get out of the Cage alone. Some of Michael’s grace came with him, and he says it’s acting like a barrier for the memories. Sort of like the wall Death gave me,” Sam explained, trying to ignore the way Castiel turned away at the mention of his fallen mental shield.

Bobby’s face was a mirror of what Dean’s had been when Adam first told them. “Holy shit,” he breathed, then added under his breath, “Quite literally.”

“But anyway,” Sam pressed, “I don’t see how this information helps us; Cas, you say Adam’s like a half-angel now. Does that mean he can do angel stuff?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Cas said. “However, having an archangel’s grace in his body is bound to have some effect. It may be that we can use Michael’s essence to our advantage somehow.”

“Any ideas how?”

“Unfortunately, no, but I suggest asking Adam. As the vessel, he’ll probably be in tune to the grace, and could tap into its power in some way.”

“Will he want to?” Bobby mused.

Sam nodded. “If it’s to protect Lily, I think he will.” He blinked as his phone burst into life, and a quick check of the caller ID made him roll his eyes. “It’s Dean.”

“Tell him to stop sulking and get his ass back here.” 

Sam snorted. “Dean. Where are you?”

“I’m in town. I told you, I went for a beer.”

“Yeah, well we could kind of use your help back here –”

“Sam I think you need to put the books down for a sec and get out here too.”

“Why?”

Dean sounded grim. “Because our friendly neighbourhood Priest has paid a visit, and it’s anything but holy.”

***

“I’m telling you, if there’s any such thing as miracles, then it’s a miracle people survived this,” Dean said, raking his eyes over the burning rubble that had once been the town’s library. The immediate whisperings were that it had been a gas explosion, but Dean had seen too many ‘gas explosions’ to know when supernatural forces had happened to be nearby at the time – and as far as supernatural destruction went, this was impressive, to say the least.

On the other end of the phone, Sam sighed. “We’ll get out there as soon as we can then. Unless you’re planning on suiting up?”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s necessary this time round. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Normally Dean would be more than willing to pull on the FBI gear, but something about this situation made him hesitate this time. For one, a gas explosion wasn’t something that would require FBI assistance. Secondly, he wouldn’t have known what to ask for without seeming crazy anyway; they knew so little about these Priests (plural because he was struggling to believe one oversized, fancily-dressed skeleton could do this), so what were they looking for?

As a troubling thought crossed his mind, Dean jumped back into the Impala. If Castiel and Lily’s descriptions were anything to go by, then finding an Enochian Priest should be a doddle. So why hadn’t they seen one? True, most ghouls and the like preferred to come out at night, but if this thing was destroying buildings during the day why had it not been seen, either by them or by civilians? Deciding to put the question to Sam and Cas when they arrived, Dean settled down in his seat, the wrecked library still in view and half-drunk beer in his hand.

He’d finished it by the time Sam knocked on his window, and crumpled the can as he got out. “‘Bout time,” he grumbled, shoving the can into a bin. “What took you guys so long? Cas, I thought you’d just –” Turning round, Dean stopped in his tracks. Either Castiel had turned into Adam or his eyes were deceiving him.

“Surprise,” Adam said, no suggestion of such in his tone.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck as his brother rounded on him. “He wanted to come, Dean. I didn’t think it would do any harm.”

“What about Lily?” Dean asked gruffly.

His tone was mirrored in Adam’s response. “She didn’t wanna come, so Cas and Bobby are taking care of her ‘til I get back.”

“Bobby?” Taken aback, Dean looked at Sam for confirmation.

“Oh, yeah, Cas zapped him over not long after you left.”

He took a moment to process that. “Did he have anything to say?”

“Uh, he told us that there wasn’t much on Enochian Priests seeing as very few people know they exist; Adam may be linked to them somehow, and we’re all ‘idjits’ for trying to take this thing on.” Next to him, Adam rolled his eyes.

“Right.” Dean blinked. “That’s… helpful. What does he mean you’re linked to them?” he asked Adam.

Their half-brother shrugged. “Castiel thinks I can tap into Michael’s grace sometimes. Draw on a bit of archangel power.”

He stared at him. “So, what, you’re like a… a demi-archangel now?”

“Which is why he’s here to protect Lily,” Sam added, continuing with, “It makes sense: the angels knew the risk of trying to get Michael out – and Michael himself may have refused anyway – so Adam was chosen instead to act as a vessel for a tiny bit of him.”

Turning this revelation over in his head, Dean looked at Adam again, who met his stare without faltering. After a minute, he huffed. “Why is it that our family is always working for or indebted to some supernatural control freak?” he complained. He let slip a small smile at Adam, hoping the kid would see there were no hard feelings between them, and was pleased to see him give a wry grin back.

“So. The library?” Sam asked when the silence began to stretch.

“Yeah, it’s – well it was round the corner.” Beckoning them to follow him Dean took them past the empty corner shop so that they could see for themselves the smoky remains of the building. “Who’d’ve guessed libraries burn so well?” Maybe it was inappropriate, but the joke had to be made.

As it finally came into full view, his brothers’ eyebrows rose considerably. “Whoa,” was all Sam could say.

“Shit…” Adam was a bit more expressive.

“Did – did one Priest do this?”

“Not sure,” Dean said. “Wondered that myself.”

Adam shook his head, jaw still hung open. “But it’s just… gone,” he said at last, and Dean read the worry in his face.

“Adam we ain’t gonna let that thing get near Lily, okay?” he reassured him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. There was no indication the boy had heard him but he meant it. He turned back to Sam. “Got your notepad and pen?”

“Right here,” Sam said, pulling out the reporter’s accessories as he spoke. “What am I asking?”

“It’s not what you’re asking it’s who; talk to witnesses,” he suggested, “people who may have seen something.”

Sam’s eyebrows pulled together. “Seen what, Dean? It’s not like we’re familiar with this thing.”

“Sam, a library was just blown up by a seven-foot wizard-skeleton. If it was here, people would have seen it!”

“Alright! I’ll go ask.” And with a tap of his pen on the notepad, Sam was gone, slipping into the persona Dean had never quite mastered.

“What do you mean, ‘if it was here’?” Adam asked quietly, a deep frown on his face.

“Giant skeletons don’t normally stroll topside during daylight hours,” he explained in a low tone. “Even if this is the first thing it’s done here, why haven’t we heard anything on the news line?”

“Maybe it’s hiding?”

“Where?” Dean gestured around them. “You know how big it is. Name one place it could hide without being detected.” Adam stayed silent, and he nodded. “So where is it?” he asked rhetorically, and strode back to the Impala. He pulled a couple of beers out from the trunk and motioned for Adam to take shotgun, handing him a bottle once they were both inside. It was received hesitantly, but appreciated nonetheless.

“I’m sorry about before,” Adam said a while later.

Surprised, Dean looked at him. “Come again?”

“I shouldn’t have flipped out at you guys like that,” he elaborated with a sigh. “I know you guys tried to help me out, and I appreciate that, really. In fact, I didn’t expect you to. Especially not after Sam –” He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dean watched him closely, noticing the stiff set of his shoulders and the tautness in his posture. “Adam, how are you really?” he asked. “I mean, I know I told Sam to learn how to cope on his own, but if you feel like you wanna talk about it… Well, he’s probably the one to do that with actually, I’m not so good at the hugs and cuddles crap.” 

Adam snorted. “No kidding,” he muttered. When he opened his eyes, he suddenly took on the appearance of someone much older, a man who had seen more than he should have in his life. “So Sam hasn’t told you about anything?” he asked. Dean shook his head. “Huh.” He dropped his gaze, fiddling with the beer bottle in his hands, and Dean let him take his time, waited as his brother worked up the courage (or maybe even just the ability) to talk. 

“Being in the Cage was like being in the middle of a fight between two nightmares,” he began. “Lucifer was intent on ripping into everything he could get his hands on, whether that was Michael, Sam, or me. When he fought with Michael, Sam and I would try to hide. If we didn’t, we got caught in the crossfire, which meant intense pain everywhere for what felt like days on end. Sometimes we’d be hot, from Michael, sometimes we’d be cold, from Lucifer. Sometimes we’d break completely, either because we’d been crushed beneath them or because we just couldn’t handle the temperature changes. When we got lucky, we’d find somewhere out of reach; only that’s when the demons would find us.” He swallowed. “There was one demon – Duncan – he was their ‘leader’, an expert in torture. Apparently he’d trained next to some other demon called Alastair, but I don’t know why that’s significant. Sam just said he tortured people too. Anyway, Duncan was… inventive, I guess. He used anything he could to hurt us, and he did it in so many ways – I never knew I had so many nerves.” Adam paused. “But it wasn’t just physical, you know? Every now and again he’d make this comment about our families. He’d talk about our moms, about John, about you. He knew how to get under our skin, how to make us angry, or simply feel like everything was over. Michael would always stop him, but by that time…”

“You said Michael protected you.”

He nodded. “When he could, anyway. He regretted that I’d ended up in there. He would heal me, fight off Duncan and his lackeys, and try to keep me sane.” He chuckled. “He’s still trying to keep me sane, I guess.”

A pang of jealousy shot through Dean, making him bristle. “Yeah, well at least you got him to help,” he said. Adam glanced at him questioningly, and he was forced to explain. “I spent thirty years on the rack, tortured by Alastair.” The recognition in his brother’s face made him grin darkly. “Yeah, there’s a reason you know his name, kid. As far as torture goes, he knows it all. He’s dead now, but at the time he was at the top of the game. Tell me something – did this Duncan ever offer you anything?” Adam thought about it, and to Dean’s dismay shook his head. “Well every night for thirty years Alastair asked me the same damn thing: would I like to learn his trade in return for getting off the rack? And you know what, after thirty years of being flayed, burnt, and being skinned alive, I said yes. And Alastair kept his word; I became his… ‘apprentice’. I learnt how to make souls suffer like I had, probably like you and Sam. But what’s worse is that the more I did it the more inventive I became, and I did it for so damn long that I could still do it today.”

The way Adam was watching him, like an animal being approached by a hunter, made Dean’s stomach knot. “How long did you do it for?” he asked guardedly.

“Ten years.”

He looked away sharply. “Wow.” A mixture of emotions crossed his face, and Dean could almost see his thoughts trying to comprehend the information. Eventually, they formed a question; “And you’re okay with that?”

“No,” he said in a tone that suggested the stupidity of such a question. “I wish to God I’d never done it. But my point is, Adam, that unlike you or Sam, I didn’t have any help blocking those memories. I still don’t. I also had no-one to share the experience with. Sure, Sam and Bobby thought I should’ve talked, but how were they supposed to understand?” He made sure Adam was looking at him before continuing. “You’ve got another chance at life, Adam,” he said, “and believe it or not the memories fade. Now I’m not saying it’s an easy time, ‘cause it sure as hell isn’t, but you’re innocent. Michael knows that – it’s probably why he’s set himself up as a wall inside your head. So whatever happens, don’t let your time in that shit hole get to you; Lily needs you now, and I guess that despite Dad’s best intentions, you’re a hunter in the making. And you’re gonna be a damn good one – okay?”

Speechless, Adam nodded, gazing at Dean with a mixture of awe, fear, and respect. It wasn’t what either of them had expected, but it was nice to know that things were better between them. In fact, unbeknownst to them, they both hoped it was the start of a stronger relationship.


	5. The Stars are Coming Out

“Okay, thank you for your time ma’am.”

As he turned away from his latest interviewee, Sam struggled to ignore the thoughtful hum in his ears. “So that’s four people now who are convinced it was a gas leak,” Lucifer summarised. “Y’know Sammy, I’m starting to think it was too.”

“Shut up,” Sam growled.

The Devil smirked. “Ooh. Burn!” he joked, and then clicked his fingers. “Hey – burn,” he said again, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Excuse me sir?” Sam said, approaching a man nearby. “Hi, my name’s Andrew –”

“No it’s not.”

“I was just wondering if you’d be able to tell me what happened here? You see, I’m a student, and I wanna be a journalist –”

“All lies!”

“And this just caught my attention as I was passing through. I’m just trying to get some information from people, see if I can start a mock report on it or something for my class. Would you be able to help?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about this guy, Sam,” Lucifer said, staring intently at the stranger. “His head’s too big. Not to mention his dress sense is all over the place. Seriously, that fleece with those trousers? No, he’s not thinking straight.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” the guy said, and told Sam everything he knew – which just happened to be everything Sam already knew. He sighed in frustration as he left the man behind, running a hand through his hair. Beside him, Lucifer chuckled.

“You know,” he said, “if you’re looking for a headline for this report of yours, I’ve already come up with a scorcher: ‘Baptism of Fire’!” He grinned, waiting for a response. “Don’t you get it Sam? That was like three puns in a row. And also two massive clues as to where you should look next.” Sam ignored him, looking back out across the crowd of people to see if there was anyone who might have had a different angle. Lucifer groaned. “Christ, it’s like talking that wall again. Hey, Sam? Try thinking about what you’re doing; these people are passers-by. You need witnesses – as in, people who were actually there to see how not a gas explosion it was? Now, I’ve tried being subtle,” he continued, despite being aware that Sam was ignoring him, “and ultimately that’s not doing either of us any favours. So here it goes: Sam, what happens to people caught in an explosion?” Sam didn’t respond, and Lucifer let out an impatient huff. “Alright, fine. I’ve tried to be nice, but you’ve left me no choice.”

The stinging on the back of his hands seemed to start from out of nowhere. Frowning, Sam looked down as the sensation increased, and when he turned his hands over he gasped in horror. The skin on his hands was blistering rapidly, the damage spreading in a raw, pink-ish wave, as if he had been severely – “Burnt!” As soon as he said it, the hot pain vanished, and his hands were as normal as they had been seconds before (only now they trembled faintly). Confused, he finally acknowledged Lucifer, who regarded him with a look of smug contempt.

“I knew you were the smart one.”

Stuffing his notepad and pen back into his pocket, Sam turned and headed back towards the Impala, trying to block out Lucifer’s outraged cries at not being thanked or acknowledged for his part in the revelation. Sam prayed he wouldn’t be there at the hospital.

***

“People at the hospital said they thought they saw something, but didn’t quite believe they saw a giant skeleton – some called it one of those ‘near death’ visions, but no-one could really say what the Priest did. So, basically, all we can say is that it hides itself well, causes destruction on a massive scale, but doesn’t like archangel grace.”

Lily watched as Dean and Adam digested Sam’s information. Bobby was frowning at the table, chin tucked into his hand, and Castiel stood in the background looking… well, like Castiel. She still hadn’t worked out the angel’s apparently limited array of expressions, but the Winchesters seemed to be able to easily decipher him so she relied on them to help her understand. Right now, she could only assume he was thinking – everyone else was, anyway.

“Okay so how can we use that?” Dean asked. Sam looked pointedly at Adam.

He fidgeted under the sudden spotlight. “Uh, well I don’t really know how it works,” he admitted. “Sometimes it’s like Michael helps me out of his own accord, sometimes I think I just make stuff happen.”

“Like?”

“Like the first time we saw the Priest. I made this light that seemed to drive it away.”

“That was you?” Lily asked, aghast.

Adam held up his hands. “I don’t know. For all I know it was Michael.” At this point, everyone seemed to automatically turn to Castiel, who now definitely looked deep in thought.

He nodded slowly. “There’s a possibility it could be,” he began. “Michael would certainly know how to defeat the Priests – it was he who was tasked to do so in the first place. It would also explain further why you were sent back to Earth, Adam.” He frowned slightly. “The angels must have known.”

“And they kept you outta the loop?” Dean asked. When Cas’ frown deepened a bit, he made a noise of disbelief. “Geez, they really pushed you down the ladder, didn’t they?” Lily couldn’t understand the odd tone to his words, nor why Castiel guilty looked away. Perhaps it wasn’t her business, she decided, and focused back on what Bobby was saying.

“We need to keep Lily safe,” he stressed. She liked that idea. “Sure, she’s got Adam with some kind of archangel upgrade watching her back, but how do we know it’s enough? We don’t even know what’ll gank that thing.”

“And it’s close,” Sam agreed.

“Which means we’re short on time,” Dean added.

“Maybe not as short as we think,” Adam said, and when his older brother raised an eyebrow at him he elaborated; “Castiel placed wards on Lily like he did with us. They must be working, otherwise it would have found her, right? So, what if it hit the library because it was guessing?”

Dean shook his head. “Look kid, I don’t care if you’re hyped up on angel juice right now – we are not waiting for that thing to come and smite us to the Holy Kingdom!”

“I know, but it gives us more time!” Adam insisted. “We can move around more too, right? Put some distance between us and it.”

“Would that work, Cas?” Sam asked.

“If it were anything else I would be confident in the sigils’ ability to hide her,” Cas said. “They will, like Adam said, but only for a short while. It’s like wiping dirt off a window – against an Enochian Priest, eventually the sigils will be useless.”

“Wait,” Lily cut in. “You mean I’ll never be safe? I’ll never be able to hide from this thing?”

Castiel looked grave. “Not after it finds you again, no.”

Talk about painfully honest – he may as well have punched her. As his words sparked a flurry of thoughts, namely a long list of things she’d never be able to do, Lily stood up abruptly, the chair scraping back noisily. “I’m going to bed,” she announced after a beat, and she turned on her heel quickly.

“Night,” Adam called after her as she bolted out of the room. He sighed, dropping a furrowed brow onto his folded arms. 

“Alright, there must be something we’re missing here,” Dean said, a frustrated determination colouring his words. 

Sam threw up his hands. “Like what? We’ve tried everything.”

“How many books did you look through?” Dean asked Bobby. “Are there no more…”

Adam couldn’t help but let their voices blend into a background soundtrack as he tried to order his own, tumultuous thoughts. His task had seemed so simple at the beginning, when he’d first met Lily. Protect her – sure. He hadn’t bargained on an ancient foe with few discernable weaknesses turning up in her house barely one day after he had. But Michael had trusted him with this job. That had to mean something, right? What would be the point in breaking the Cage to get him out otherwise? Adam closed his eyes. Where was the archangel when he needed him?

_Grace_.

Startled, Adam sat up.

_Destroy its grace_.

“Oh come on!” Dean shouted, his patience on its final threads. “How hard can it be to dust a heap of bones?”

“Why don’t we destroy its grace?”

All eyes turned to Adam. Bobby, a sceptic look on his face, was the first to ask him what he meant. “How do you know it even has a grace?”

“Adam’s right,” Castiel said, eyes wide with realisation. “The Priests were made akin to angels – they would have been created with graces too.”

“And how do you propose we destroy a grace?” Dean challenged, and Adam floundered. “I mean it’s just energy – we can’t even see it, let alone destroy it.”

_No body – external grace_.

“Its grace is external,” Adam explained. “It has no body, so we’d be able to see it.”

_Volatile_.

“And it’s volatile, so – so it’s unstable!”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“It would be like a supernova.” Castiel picked up on Adam’s (or maybe, he wondered, Michael’s) train of thought, and after a sharp reminder to explain it as if they were children from Dean, he continued; “When the core of a star has too much energy it collapses in on itself, and the result is a supernova – an explosion that disperses that energy.”

“And we can use Michael’s grace to do that!” Sam joined in excitedly. Dean and Bobby shared a mirrored look of ‘what the fuck?’

“Would it definitely destroy it though?” Adam asked.

“I believe the grace is all that keeps the Priests in existence,” Castiel mused. “Either way, it would be severely weakened without one, perhaps to the point where it would be completely powerless.”

Adam clapped his hands. “Great, so we have a plan!”

“Hold on there, Hot Shot,” Dean chided. “We know – sort of – what we’re doing, but that doesn’t mean we have a plan. Now I’m not sure how you’re gonna take this, but I was thinking bait and ambush?”

Any joy in Adam’s face was wiped in an instant. He blatantly didn’t like this plan. “You serious? After what you just said about not waiting for it?”

“Well there’s a difference between waiting unprepared and waiting with some knowledge of what’s gonna happen.”

“So you wanna put Lily in danger on purpose.”

“That’s generally what bait’s for, yeah. Look, Adam,” he said, seeing the anger levels rising. “I know it sucks, baiting plans often do. But I’m not saying we throw her straight to the lions. I mean, we’ll be there, and she’ll have you right by her side if she wants. We just need to get the element of surprise on this thing.”

“I get it,” Adam said grudgingly. “I’d just… prefer it if there was another way.”

“So would we,” Sam said. 

***

When Dean later suggested they go out to get some beer and pie, Adam had been tempted to join his brothers on the trip – to feel like a family, do brotherly things, get to know them better, and let them get to know him. But he knew that he would stay with Lily. He had to. She needed to be kept safe. So rather than join his brothers, Adam went back to his own room, stepping inside quietly so he didn’t wake her.

There was no need to try. As soon as he opened the door (and he didn’t even make it creak), he could hear the soft sniffs and hitched breaths of someone crying. “Lily?” He saw her jump in the moonlight, curled up on her bed with her head buried in her arms, knees against her chest. She didn’t answer, just wiped her face on her sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared to go to sleep,” she whispered, her voice sounding cracked and broken. “It’s so stupid.”

“No it’s not,” he told her quietly.

“But it is,” she insisted. “I mean, why should I stop feeling safe just because I close my eyes?”

What Adam did next was purely instinctual. It felt right, and had nothing to do with Michael or angels or anything supernatural. He made his way over to Lily’s bed, sitting behind her and tapping her shoulder. “Lie down,” he said gently, and after she had repositioned herself on the mattress he pulled the covers over them both, staying close to her.

“Adam?” Lily murmured. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you safe,” he returned, and rested his arm around her waist. “Now you don’t have to worry about closing your eyes.”

His charge stayed motionless. “What…”

“Go to sleep, Lily. I’m right here.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, where Adam could take in the circular shape of the pristine moon, shining like the sun against a rich navy-blue sky and bathing the motel room in a crystal-white glow. Lily shifted in bed, surprising him; she twisted round until she was facing him, burying her face against his chest and wrapping her own arms around him tightly. As her breathing eased, he stroked her back softly, watching the moon over her head and not really thinking at all. 

That night, for the first time in what could have been centuries, Adam slept.

***

Somehow, Dean had been blessed; here he was, alone in the motel room at two in the morning, beer in hand, watching a re-run of Dr Sexy. He was still pleasantly full from the pie earlier – and it had been good pie – and for the first time since driving out to meet his half brother and the new prophet girl, he felt truly relaxed. With Sam back investigating the library, Castiel taking Bobby home, Lily asleep and Adam possibly not asleep in their room, Dean found he was enjoying the solitude.

“Bobby is safely home now.”

Make that temporary solitude. “Great. Thanks Cas.” Dean quickly refocused on the television, hoping Castiel would get the message. 

“Dean?”

Farewell solitude. “Yeah Cas?”

“You’re still angry at me.”

In all honesty, it wasn’t what Dean had expected, and the blunt statement caught him off guard. Slowly, he picked up the remote and switched off Dr Sexy, fiddling with his beer for a few seconds to stall (hoping Castiel didn’t realise what he was doing, too). “What makes you say that?”

“What I did, with the souls… to Sam… You warned me not to, and I ignored your advice. Your brother is now suffering unnecessarily, because of me. I betrayed your trust.” His words were heavy with regret, and Dean didn’t need to look to know the angel’s shoulders would be slumped unhappily, his eyes downcast and shamed.

“You screwed up Cas,” he said finally. “And I’m not gonna lie – the whole demotion thing? I think the angels were being pretty generous there.” Castiel shifted, looking like he was going to respond, but Dean held up a hand. “But everyone screws up royally sometime in their life; and in the end I guess your plan kind of worked, so…” Trailing off, Dean took a deep breath, glancing back down at the beer bottle. “I can’t forgive you for what you did to Sam, Cas, not just yet. But you better try to do something for him once this is all over, capiche?”

“Of course Dean. Thank you.” The relief and gratitude from Castiel was practically palpable, and if Dean didn’t know him better he would have expected a hug. “How is he?” Cas asked instead.

Dean frowned. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I don’t think he sleeps, and I get the feeling he hallucinates too. Funny thing is, we never seem to want to talk about it at the same time.” He nodded. “I told him to learn to cope on his own. Perhaps I shouldn’t have.”

If Castiel was going to respond, he never got the chance to; the soft creak of the door caught their attention, and they were surprised to see Lily step tentatively into the room. Dean sat up straight. “Hey. Everything alright?”

“Adam’s asleep,” she began, “and I needed to…”

Dean took in the anxious set of her eyes, the way she hugged the door as if it would prevent anything from touching her, the slight waver in her voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“I had another vision.”

“You did?” Dean and Castiel exchanged a glance. “So what happened?”

Lily came further in, sitting on Sam’s empty bed, still the picture of worry. “I didn’t see much,” she began in a small voice. “Just the… the Priest. It looked like it was about to attack something, but before it could do it there was this light from somewhere. It sort of flinched, and then the orb thing on top of its staff… um, shattered, kind of.” She glanced up, eyes wide. “That was it.”

“The orb on top of the staff shattered?” Dean echoed, and Lily confirmed it.

“Its grace,” Castiel said. “It must be the energy used to power the staff.”

“So what I saw was its grace being destroyed?”

He nodded. “I believe so.”

“Lily,” Dean said, leaning forward. “Where did that light come from? Can you describe it in any way?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was just like this pure white glow that got more and more intense, but it came from something I couldn’t see – like, if it was a picture, then this light source was beyond the frame. Does that even make sense?” she asked with a shrug.

“Yeah, we understand,” Dean said, and shared another look with Castiel. The angel now seemed to have a renewed sense of hope about him: his shoulders were no longer hunched, there was a glimmer in his eyes, and Dean thought he met his gaze with more confidence, too. It wasn’t quite the haughty, superior look he used to get once upon a time, but it was different from the Cas of late, who couldn’t look Dean in the eye for some time. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, things were starting to take a turn for the better.


	6. The Brothers Grim

_Adam!_

Adam curled in on himself as the plume of fire swept over him, hissing violently like a pissed-off snake and leaving a hot cloud in its wake. The heat wave brushed his skin, and he cried out; but as soon as he did, the sensation switched from burning to freezing, and he could have sworn that ice was forming on his skin. Suddenly shaking uncontrollably, he couldn’t prevent a pathetic whimper from leaving his lips. Above him, the fire laughed. Lucifer didn’t normally use fire, but when he did… Well, let’s just say he would take Michael’s accidental scalding over this any day.

As Lucifer prepared the next onslaught, Adam tried to crawl away, but something was blocking his progress – it was as if he was wrapped in something, a material that bound his legs and clung to his torso. Panicked, he glanced back up into the fire, watching as it descended towards him, already anticipating the pain of ice on fresh burns.

But it never came. Peeking out from beneath his raised arm, Adam was shocked to see Michael meeting fire with fire – literally. The archangel, apparently in the form of his younger father, held back the writhing element, glaring back into his rebel brother’s furious face. Adam was aghast. Lucifer had just beaten the shit out of Michael – what was he doing?

_I’m here to protect you, Adam! You can escape – go!_

“Oh, hello pretty boy.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. He really, really didn’t want to turn around, but his neck muscles betrayed him (or maybe he was forced to), and he was staring into the face of a rancid, middle-aged man with bad breath and missing teeth. Scars decorated his face, and his sparse hair was thin, wiry and oily looking. A flash of something from the warring archangels behind him lit up this face, and just for a second he could see what a demon truly looked like. It sent him into terror overdrive.

He tried to get up and run. “No, no, don’t do that,” Duncan shushed him, raking a calloused hand down the side of his face. He chuckled as Adam turned his head at the touch, then hauled him up by his clothes onto the rack, patting his shoulder like a father placing his son on a merry-go-round. “I have something new to show you today, Adam,” he said as he turned to reach for his tools. Adam hated the way he said his name, tongue sliding over the sounds as if it was amusing. He probably thought it was. “It’s a poison,” he continued, “one designed to infect the blood and penetrate the heart.”

Adam wanted to reply that that’s what most poison did, but he could already see Duncan approaching, holding a tool he invented himself – and Adam knew it too well. It looks like a toothbrush, but the bristles are hundreds of stiff, sharp needles. Duncan would trail it along his skin, pressing just hard enough to tear the thin membrane protecting his sensitive nerves – and this time, he realised, he’d coat it in poison. Maybe he’d cut him just the once, let the venom take its time inside him, or perhaps he’d trace his skeleton, quickening the vile liquid’s effects and letting him bleed. Either way, his sickening grin promised Adam that it would hurt and that he, Duncan, would enjoy it.

Without warning, the grin is wiped from Duncan’s face, and he recoiled as holy fire engulfed him. When Adam opened his eyes, he saw Michael standing in front of him, arms outstretched and directing the fire to where the demon had stood moments earlier. Adam was speechless.

_He can’t hurt you, Adam. I’m not going to let him. Now go!_

Go? Go where? If he ran from here, Lucifer would be waiting for him. And besides, he couldn’t run anyway.

_You don’t have to be here!_

What was he on about? If he was going to go off on one of his regretful I-promise-to-make-amends-for-your-sacrifice speeches, Adam was not in the mood.

_Go Adam! Sam is waiting for you._

Sam? But Sam wasn’t here. Someone took him.

_Wake up!_

Wake up?

_“Dam? Cme on, u cn do ths – js figh. ht it, Adm!”_

Adam frowned. The voice was familiar… it sounded like Sam. What was he trying to say? And why couldn’t Adam hear him properly?

_“S ju a drm, Ada. A ream, yor nt reay ther. Ow cme n, opn yr ys!”_

He wanted to scream. What was his brother saying?!

_Adam!_

Michael?

_“Adam!”_

Sam!

_Open your eyes!_

Adam closed his eyes.

***

The relief Sam felt when his writhing brother finally opened his eyes nearly made him fall off the bed. Luckily he managed to stay on as he waited for Adam to squash the last remains of panic the nightmare had drowned him in, not satisfied until his head dropped back onto the pillow with a breathless gasp. “You need a minute?”

Adam nodded, covering his eyes. “Yeah…” He spent a very long minute just breathing, and as much as Sam wanted to know what he was thinking and how he could help he knew to give him time to re-adjust his memories and perspective. After the nightmares, it was even harder to tell memory from reality. Finally, Adam’s hand went back to lying by his side, and he frowned. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” Sam told him. “We were going to wake you up for breakfast, but Lily insisted we left you alone. Apparently you don’t sleep much.”

He snorted. “Try never.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

The Milligan boy sat up, casting a thoughtful look over his older half-brother. “What was it like for you?” he asked slowly.

Running a hand through his hair, Sam remembered trying to sleep once his wall had been levelled. “Uh… Honestly? Nothing like what you’re going through.” And with that, Sam quickly filled him in on life after Hell, only choosing to avoid the details of his soulless period. Adam listened with an unchanging expression, taking it all in but offering no comment as Sam’s story passed. “Not being able to sleep is just one side effect,” he finished. “The other one is that sometimes I see…” He shrugged, figuring Adam could work out what was left unsaid.

“Me!”

Sam twitched at the voice in his ear. Telling himself he’d imagined it, he blinked slowly – and suddenly Lucifer was behind Adam, grinning madly. Adam, completely oblivious, frowned as Sam’s facial muscles went slack. “Sam? Everything okay?”

“Well go on, Sam, answer him,” Lucifer said. “I mean, I went to so much effort to bring him here. Shame to make him feel unwanted now.” He sighed, looking down at the second-hand vessel pityingly. “Poor boy doesn’t even realise where he is.”

“Hey Sam, snap out of it.” Adam leaned forward, clicking his fingers in front of Sam’s face.

He blinked. “Uh –” 

“All that stuff about Michael throwing him out and giving him this little girl to play Prince Charming for? Have to admit – I was pleased with how hard he fell for it!” the Devil giggled. “But then again, so did you.” 

“Sam, what is this?”

“And despite what you think, I made the Dean you see here, as well as all the other important people in your life; which means, technically, that I can’t actually hurt them.”

“Hey man, come on! Talk to me.” 

“But Adam here, well…” And with that, Lucifer reached out a hand towards the boy’s head.

“No!” Sam yelled, leaping forward. “Don’t touch him!”

“Sam!”

As if someone had flicked a switch, he stopped. After a couple of seconds he started to think again, and actually took in the situation: Lucifer was gone, and he was leant protectively over a confused and mildly scared Adam, who he just remembered had woken up from a nightmare and needed reassurance. He now probably wanted an explanation too. So, with a sigh, Sam began –

The door was shoved open, probably harder than necessary. Dean skidded to a stop at the end of the bed, followed a short way by Lily and Cas, concern and confusion on all their faces (they could probably start a Confusion Committee, Sam thinks dryly). After a deathly quiet moment of shared looks and twitching, Dean straightened up. “Can you guys give us a moment?” he said, still looking hard at Sam. Sam maintained the eye contact, aware of Cas, Lily and Adam moving in the background. But then Dean broke the stare and held out his hand. “Not you, Adam.”

Frowning, Adam resumed a more comfortable position on his bed, and Sam moved back to give him some more room. There was a gentle bang from the closing wooden door, and then the usual rally of angry-demand-for-explanation and resigned-explanation-giving began. “Dean –”

“I want an explanation and I want it now, Sam. And no bullshitting.” Dean folded his arms, scowling furiously and leaving no room for escape.

“Wait,” Adam said before anything could be explained. “Why am I here? I mean, this seems like a Winchester Bros thing, and I’m –”

“Adam, I couldn’t care if your surname was Milligan or Schmidt – you’re our brother, so you have as much a right to know what goes on in the company as either of us do,” the eldest Winchester snapped, then refocused back on Sam. “So come on, Sam. Spill!”

Seeing there was no escaping this, Sam gave in, and told his brothers about the hallucinations. He told them how Lucifer had started appearing in the real world, claiming to still be holding him down in the Cage; how he sometimes doubted whether Dean or Castiel or Bobby were real; how whenever he tried to deny it, to tell himself it was all in his mind, the Devil would unleash a sensation of pain that made his nerves scream like he had in Hell, and his resolve would waver. And he watched as their faces grew paler, their expressions changed to horror and sympathy, and they finally began to understand what he was going through. Because, as different as their experiences might have been, Dean and Adam did understand; knowing that made him feel better. When at last he finished, he looked to Dean to wait for his brother’s reaction.

After a long time staring into space, arms folded, chin on his chest, Dean sucked in a breath and stuck his hands on his hips. “Well aren’t we three the century’s biggest screw-ups?” Adam huffed out a laugh, and even Sam couldn’t help but smile. Wearily, Dean sat himself down on the corner of the unoccupied bed, rubbing his hand over his face. “But seriously, Sam, you didn’t think to tell me about all of this sooner?”

Sam could tell he was a little hurt – and yes, he did feel a bit guilty, but he’d had his reasons. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he said. “And you always refused to tell me and Bobby what your problems were.”

“That’s different.” (Of course it was – Sam hadn’t been expecting any other answer.) “You were trapped in Hell with the Devil, Sam, both of you were. Now from what I can tell, your wonderwalls haven’t done much in helping with that.”

“So what do you propose?” Adam asked.

Dean shrugged. “I’m not. At the minute I’m saying deal; but maybe once this whole mess is sorted… I dunno, Cas might be able to do something.”

“Dean, no offence to your angel buddy or anything, but I’ve got Michael.”

“Well at the very least he can help Sam,” he said, looking pointedly at him. “Stupid son of a bitch owes it to you, anyway.”

“Why?”

The Winchesters turned to Adam. “I just explained all that Adam,” Sam said.

“No, I mean why does Castiel owe you guys anything?” When neither of them answered, surprised as they were by the question, he continued: “As far as I can tell he does a lot for, and has done since you met. And Dean’s managed without a ‘wall’ –”

“Yeah but I wasn’t trapped in the Cage –”

“But you tortured people for ten years. You get nightmares too, so don’t try and claim that you’re not scarred as well.” Dean shut up. “Castiel rescued both of you from Hell, disobeyed God for you, has died a few times too, right? And you’re saying he’s… ‘obliged’ to give Sam a band-aid?”

“Do you know why you’ve been given a wall, Adam?” Dean asked sharply.

“To stem the flow of memories. Michael told me.”

“And do you know what happens if those memories get through?” No answer. “Well it’s a hell of a lot more than nightmares and hallucinations. Now I may have suffered in Hell in my own way, but I was there for a fraction of the time that you two were, and if this shit’s happening to Sam…” He shook his head. “Let’s just say I think it’d be three times as worse for you.”

Adam looked down at the bed sheets unhappily. “All I’m saying is it’s not fair that you guys are forcing him to do this.”

Sam blinked. “We’re not.” When Adam looked confused, he elaborated. “Cas feels bad for what he did to me – he wants to make amends. He’s an angel, Adam, and although he’s disobeyed and been punished for what he did, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be forgiven. And we had nothing to do with that.”

He held up his hands. “Okay, I get it,” he said. He shook his head. “Damn angels and their sense of –”

From across the hall there was a scream. As the three of them leapt for the door, they heard a crash as something was thrown or knocked over, and their hearts lurched. It took them seconds to reach the opposite room, but it felt like a few seconds too many. Dean was the first in, and he quickly found the source of the crash: Castiel lay, somewhat dazed, beside the upturned table and chairs the motel supplied, a trickle of blood running from his temple. He lifted his head sluggishly, expression saying ‘I can’t quite work out what just happened’.

“Cas!” Dean wasted no time in rushing over to his friend, Sam hot on his heels. “You okay man?”

“Take it easy,” Sam advised.

“Dude, what –”

“Lily!”

All three of them stopped and stared as Adam ran to the window. Frantically, he spun back to face them with wide eyes, asking Castiel, “Where’s Lily?” It was a good question – one Dean kicked himself for not asking sooner.

Frowning, Cas allowed himself to be hauled up. “It was the Priest,” he said. “It… got the jump on us.” He touched his fingertips to the blood trail running down the side of his face, staring at it confusedly.

Normally Dean might have found the angel’s attempts to imitate their hunter speak hilarious, but this was a very un-hilarious matter. “What do you mean?”

“It took her?” Adam cut in, stepping closer. Dean noticed how on edge his younger brother suddenly seemed, and quietly admitted that he was a good choice as prophet guardian.

Cas nodded, still frowning. “It overpowered me, I…” He blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Cas,” Sam assured him. “Do you know how we can find her?”

“She’s in an abandoned farmhouse twenty miles from here,” Adam said. “Can you take us there?”

“Whoa, hold up – how do you know that?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Michael told me, now can we –”

His eyebrows rose. “Michael told you?” he echoed.

Adam’s jaw twitched. “Yes.”

“And how does he know?”

“Because he’s a fucking archangel, now can we please just go?” he shouted.

Dean reacted just as explosively. “Oh, sure, yeah. Hop in the car and we’ll drive as the crow flies to a freaking farm twenty miles away in the middle of Michael-knows-where!”

Ignoring him, Adam turned to Cas. “If I show you what it looks like, can you angel-zap us all there?” 

Castiel nodded, and reached out to touch his forehead. They both closed their eyes for a second, and when they re-opened them, Cas turned to the clueless brothers. “Hold on,” was the only warning he gave before Dean felt himself being pulled out of the second floor motel room and into a cold, empty stone room. Swallowing back his discomfort (the sensation of angel-zapping, as Adam called it, never ceased to leave his organs muddled up, he was sure of it), he took stock of their surroundings.

“Is this it?” he heard Sam ask, and turned to Adam, who looked like he was listening intently.

“Yeah,” their brother breathed. “It’s here.”

***

“This is Dean. Leave a message.”

As the phone went to voicemail again, Bobby growled through his teeth. “Dean, you idjit, pick up your goddamn phone!” he started after the tone. “It’s important – I got some info on Enochian Priests and what they could do – they’re grace eaters, Dean, it’s how they punished angels in the past. My guess is it’s trying to use souls to power up again, but not just any souls: souls of prophets, of psychics, of anyone who’s a little different to Joe Bloggs. You have to protect that girl!” He shuddered involuntarily. “I don’t wanna think about what the angels might try and do if we lose their new forecaster, but it won’t be good for any of us.” He blew out a breath, dragging out the action to try and calm his nerves. “We still don’t know this thing, boy. You and your brothers stay safe, you hear?” He rolled his eyes, mentally smacking himself. No, of course he couldn’t hear, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to a goddamned answer machine! Always there when he needed to contact them, Dean and Sam. “Bleedin’ Winchesters,” he muttered as he ended the call, tossing the phone back onto his desk. No way were they blaming him if one of them came back soulless. No friggin’ way.

***

Lily had never given much thought to how she was going to die. She’d contemplated it occasionally with friends, each one of them taking delight in expanding the gory details of their ‘murders’ to sometimes obscene levels. Really, she expected to die in a hospital, possibly riddled with cancer, or in a home somewhere struck by some mental deficiency. Never had she expected to die, aged fifteen, in a random, earth-worn house in the middle of nowhere, killed by a giant skeleton wizard with a ridiculous outfit. If someone had told her that was the way she was going to die, she’d have laughed – and then died as a result.

Regardless, she was here, as was the Enochian Priest. It had snatched her right out from underneath Castiel’s guard (she spared a thought for the battered angel, hoping he was okay) as easily as if she was a lamb taken from its ewe. Adam would be furious, she thought, and the fear pounding in her chest increased. He wasn’t here, he couldn’t protect her – hell, they probably wouldn’t find her until it was too late! What would he think? What would he do?

So when she heard his echoing voice desperately calling out her name from beyond the stone walls, turning the head of the Priest even as it reached to cup her face in its bony fingers, Lily couldn’t have been more delighted.


End file.
